


Home is where the Heart is

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Series: Other Places, Other Lives [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Feels, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 06:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: Sherlock indulges in a bit of nostalgia and then remembers what really matters





	Home is where the Heart is

**Author's Note:**

> Nope, I literally CANNOT seem to switch this off haha :P

Sherlock was busy typing away when he heard the key turn in the front door lock that evening. He felt his stomach swoop.

_Mycie was home!!_

More than two years together and he still had that effect on him.

Suddenly the flat seemed warmer and the day seemed to have purpose. He even felt a bit hungry as he focused on his transport.

It had been raining relentlessly and for a second that afternoon he had forgotten everything and thought he was looking out at London. He had been stung by the realization that it wasn’t so when the rain had slowed for a few minutes and the distinctive New York cabs were seen on the streets below.

He had found himself unable to eat anything for lunch, even though Mycroft had texted him at 12.30 sharp with a loving reminder. He had been almost nauseated with longing, thinking of the scent of the fish and chips and the vinegar that he could smell as though it was in his hands, almost too hot to hold, with the oil seeping through the newspaper as he held it.

.

.

Poor Mycie had gone to work despite having a slight fever this morning.

Poor Mycie.

Sherlock felt it tug his heart every single day. Every single one of these 821 days.

Mycroft, once the British Government, one of the most powerful men in the WORLD, and look at him now? So ordinary that no one would glance at him twice on the street. Barely had his own secretary at the office, among the pool of temps, whereas earlier he had moved around London in a sleek black Jaguar with Anthea, a KGB double agent by his side.

And now?

Now Mycroft smiled at the building watchman, walked to the subway station, made his own coffee, ironed his own clothes.

Sherlock usually spent about half an hour in tears after he had kissed Mycroft goodbye and given him some silly instructions to make him laugh.

“Don’t forget the onions on your way back dear!” he would say, mimicking Mrs. Hudson.

Sometimes he would give him a saucy wink and lean suggestively against the door.

“Come home early dear. I will be waiting.” Said in a breathless husky voice guaranteed to make Mycroft laugh and shake his head in despair.

.

.

This morning, as usual, once the door was closed behind his husband, and the flat echoed with the utter absence of Mycie, Sherlock had curled up on the sofa and wept his eyes out.

_What had his love done to Mycroft??_

This was worse than King Edward who had abdicated the Throne. At least he had been able to live with Wallis openly.

Them? They were not even cloak and dagger. Just cloak.

No excitement, no leaping off rooftops as he chased murderers.

At around this time he would usually switch on the TV to watch BBC News and catch glimpses of his once beloved city….. no correct that ….his still beloved city. He would watch out for any crime news. He had seen Lestrade once, giving a press meet. It had made his breath stop as he was flooded with  memories of the man, the work, the thrill, the adrenaline rush. The amazingly deep feeling of utter satisfaction when he managed to read the clues and solve the case.

One year ago he had created a fake FB account using TOR browser and sometimes he would use it to take a peek at the lives of those they had left behind. He had kept it a secret from Mycroft because he didn’t want him to worry about the security risk. But more than that, he didn’t want him to know just how MUCH he missed London.

So he would scroll through the posts from Molly, John, Mrs. Hudson.

Once in a moment of real weakness he had even checked in on Sally. Huh.

Molly was pregnant now, six months, and looked so happy and radiant. Lestrade probably didn’t show up much in the photos because of his new position as Chief Super.

Mary had moved in at 221B and she and John were getting married next month.

Mrs. Hudson seemed to be dating the owner of Speedy’s.

He smiled fondly as he looked at her photo, that ever cheerful face, the elegant old fashioned dress she favoured, as she stood outside the building, next to Mr. Chatterjee.

221B. Baker Street.

Home.

He went into his Mind Palace and explored it. Every corner of it.  His bison, the wallpaper, the sofa, his bedroom with the periodic table. He spent a good one hour and finished the tour feeling somewhat melancholy and restless.

It wasn’t right. _Something was missing_. He looked around, searching.

_What was it??_

Just then he heard a triple tap on the stairs and he opened the door.

Mycroft stepped into 221B and stood there, leaning gently on his umbrella.

Sherlock’s eyes flew open.

Of course.

That _had_ been home once.

But now? Home was here. In Manhattan. With his beloved Mycie.

Home is where the heart is.

.

.

Just then his phone buzzed.

{Lock love, don’t forget to eat breakfast! May finish work early today. Should we check out that new fish and chips place at 42nd East ? M.}

_How had Mycie known???_

Sherlock wondered, as always, if Mycroft really was some kind of a magic mind reader!!

 _Oh…maybe this rain made him miss London too_….and the thought made Sherlock sad.

[Don’t fuss My] he typed back. [I already ate an entire bowl of muesli and an entire apple.]

{Liar J !! M.}

[Ok so maybe I didn’t :P But yes, I will be ready by 6 pm and we will eat out.]

{See you then! M.}

[You know I love you more than the entire Universe don’t you?]

{Yes dear. And you know that you ARE my entire universe don’t you? M.}

Sherlock sniffed and wiped his eyes.

[Don’t you have work to do?!! Stop messaging me and disturbing me while I am writing my great detective novel!!]

Mycroft saw that message and gave a soft smile to the screen.

“I love you too.” he whispered as he kept the phone away and picked up the next bunch of files.


End file.
